


help me

by joinintheparty



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-19 09:30:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7355449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joinintheparty/pseuds/joinintheparty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joshua Dun and Tyler Joseph have both experienced very traumatic events in their lives. They both meet at a mental illness rehabilitation meeting in Ohio. They knew they both needed serious help. But they didn't know that they would both get over their mental illnesses in ways different from each others'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It might take me a while to update this fic, sorry guys. And in this au, Tyler is the youngest.

> January 16, 2007
> 
>  
> 
> Dear stranger, my name is Tyler Robert Joseph. I'm a civilian from Columbus in Ohio. My interests are **music** , sketching, **music** , watching crappy movies on Netflix, Taco Bell, and **music**. I have problems inside my head, as my psychiatrist told me exactly one year and fourteen days ago. The mental illnesses I have include chronic depression and anxiety. I know, pretty much everyone has that these days. I don't really know where I began to feel extremely sad. It just...progressed. Like a dog aging. You don't notice them getting bigger until you compare photos from when they were born and three years later. That's how it is with mental illness. I fantasize about dying and death, which is far from the normal way of passing the time. I barely leave my room, only to get something to eat or to get in the car and go to my weekly therapy appointments.
> 
> Right now, my mom is trying to get me some better meds and end the therapy sessions, since the expenses are killing her. I understand that completely, since I kind of specialize in tough times. Anyways, I'm supposed to go to a mental disorder recovery session, which is like therapy, but free and with people who understand what you're going through. I have to leave here in 23 minutes. 
> 
> Most of my friends ditched me when they found out I have mental illness. They didn't come to me straight up and say,"Hey, I think you're sketchy now, so I'm just going to delete your contact and pretend you don't exist." Yeah, that's not how it works. One by one, they slowly became less attached to me. They dropped the conversations, stopped inviting me places, etc. That shit didn't help at all with what I'm going through, and I really hope you understand that, okay? I wish I was never born most of the time. I wish I stopped existing. I wish I could end it all painlessly and just go in a deep sleep, forever. I hate myself. And I hope you understand that.
> 
> I have to go now. Talk soon.
> 
>  


	2. concrete

   September 3, 2006

 

 

   Breathless. I can't breathe. Sightless. I can't see straight, everything in front of me is blurry and distorted. My mind won't process what had happened in the past thirty minutes. I can feel her hands still roaming my pale chest, her fingertips resting on my hip bone-STOP. STOP THINKING. Tears are streaming down my face, bite marks dotting my chest and stomach. I didn't want her. No matter how many times I told her, she didn't listen. She didn't care. I'm helpless. As I run away, trying to find some help, trying to find someone, I see her again. The orange button-up hugging her torso. The leather skirt tight around her thin legs. She's staring at me. No, no, no, no, no- I turn around as quickly as I can. She's there again, instead her button-up unbuttoned and her leather skirt hiking up to show the lace edge of the lingerie stockings. I want to run, but my body won't allow me to breathe, much less run. My eyes dart to the side of me. She's standing still. The skirt gone. The button-up gone.

   "I DON'T WANT YOU!" I yell hoarsely, or at least, I try to yell. But it comes out in a shaky whisper.

   Her lips curve into a frown as she steps forward. There's two more of her on the other sides of me.

   "P-Please, I just want to go home," I sob out. But she doesn't listen. She doesn't care. 

   I step back. I don't know how, but I was able to move my legs again. My eyes moved to my feet. I kept stepping back. Then I fall. My body hits the concrete hard, and I could feel my ankle snapping during the quick movement. I groan at the pain, and everything goes black.

 

  


	3. stories

January 16, 2007

  


  


   Tyler here. I just came back from group therapy, and I'm gonna tell you how it went.

   My mom was very stressed out as we drove to the building where the rehab meeting was. I don't know why she was stressed, and I asked her, but she wouldn't give me a straight answer. She never gives me a straight answer.

   "Mom, what's the problem?"

   "Nothing, Tyler. Just things."

   "Alright."

   I was slouched in the passenger seat, listening to a band on the radio. Walk the Moon, I think it was called. I didn't really care that much for their music, though. As I looked outside at the trees zooming past the window, my mom laced her fingers with mine. I held her hand loosely, and closed my eyes. I didn't sleep or anything, I just thought about everything that might happen. Since these thoughts were starting overwhelm me, I opened my eyes and looked at my mom questioningly. 

"Mom?"

"Yes, Tyler?"

"Will these people _make_ me speak?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I'm not sure if I want to talk to anyone there."

"What? Why not?" She glanced at me nervously.

"I'm tired of talking. I want to listen for once."

"Oh, okay. But next meeting I want you to speak what's on your mind."

"Okay, okay."

   When we arrived, my mom leaned over to hug me and kiss my cheek.

"I love you, be safe," she said, looking at me carefully, as if she were trying to read my mind.

"Yeah, okay. Love you too."

   I shut the car door, and began to walk up the steps into the building. My converse slapped against the brick floor as I walked inside. There were about 20 or so chairs forming a circle in the middle of the room. The therapist lady was sitting in the middle of the circle on a spinny chair. I quietly took a seat next to a girl with blonde hair and green eyes. She was biting her nails and rocking back in her seat. I didn't stare, since my mom always told me that it's rude to stare, but I did look at her sympathetically. After five minutes, most of the seats were filled. I was slumped back in my chair, staring at my feet and sighed deeply as I fiddled with my hands. 

"Mister? What's your name?"

   When I looked up, everyone was staring at me. The therapist's body was facing me, and she was staring directly into my soul through her oval glasses. My eyes widened, and I looked back down. 

"Tyler."

She nodded, and turned to the person on the left side of me, asking the same question.

"What's your name?"

"Josh."

   I glanced at the boy next to me, and ho-ly shit.

   His eyes were the color of coffee. Not just regular, black coffee, but the color of lattes from Starbucks. The boy's cheekbones were well shaped, and his lips reminded me of bubblegum. The shirt he was wearing exposed the sleeve he has on his left arm. His hair matched the color of his eyes, but a bit darker, like coffee beans. The feature that really caught my eye was his smile. 

   And at that moment, I knew I met the boy of my dreams.


	4. therapy

January 17, 2007

 

 

   Hi. I'm Josh. Did you guys know that a lot of surgical tools have names starting in German? Weird. Anyways, I like skateboarding, drumming, and anything to do with bands and aliens. I have problems. I was raped when I was 19. I didn't go to therapy for a year after the event, because I'm broke. But my friend, Mark, managed to convince me to sign up for rehab therapy sessions. I don't even know how he got me to sign up, since I have social anxiety. 

   I've been gay since I was three. Well, I haven't really _been_ gay since I was three, but that's when I started to notice it. I would stare at boys on the playground, then I would stare at boys at the grocery store, then I would stare at them in class, then I would stare at them in the locker room. I love boys. I tried to have a girlfriend, her name was Debby, but it didn't work out as planned, because of my flaming homosexuality. 

   When I was raped, I called the police afterwards, they started trial, but the woman ended up with community service for "unintended sexual harassment." I tried to kill myself that day. 

   The reason why I'm broke is because I can't afford insurance and had to work overtime to pay for the failed suicide attempt. Fuck my life and everything in it.

   So, at the first therapy session I went to, I was sitting next to a guy with hella cool tattoos and an awesome shirt. I wanted to compare tattoos, but I saw his face and immediately went silent. It could've been marked as a goddamn Wonder of the World. His nose was perfectly chiseled, and his eyes were the color of his brown hair. But his lips. Fuck, his lips. I wanted to make out with him right there, but that would be kind of inappropriate, since I didn't know why he's even in therapy. 

   The lady went around the circle of chairs and called out different mental health problems. I raised my hand for anxiety, and the guy next to me, who's name is apparently Tyler, raised his hand for anxiety and depression. She went around, asking us to describe our jobs and favorite things. I said I work at Burger King and like drumming. Tyler was watching me as I talked, but with an odd look on his face, as if he wanted to touch my arm or something. It was kinda cute, since there as a little drool on his lip.

   When the session ended, the boy left the building as fast as he could, and he wouldn't talk about his life when the therapist asked. I was really curious about what happened to him. 

   The next therapy session is on Friday, and I really, really want to know more about this boy.

 


	5. info

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not targeting anyone's family in this. This is a fictionous story; therefore nothing in these chapters are true, besides the singer's and drummer's names.

January 19, 2007

 

 

   I just finished up my therapy session, and it was interesting.

   The boy from Tuesday, Josh, sat next to me again. There weren't any empty seats next to me, he literally asked the girl next to me if she could sit somewhere else. She sighed and nodded, and he plopped down on the chair on the right side of me. 

   "...Hey. Josh, right?" I asked for confirmation about his name, even though I knew damn well what his name is. 

   "Yep. Tyler?" 

   I nodded, and he smiled slightly.

   "I like that name."

   Five minutes into the session, the therapy lady asked if we could find someone and talk about why we're here, but if we didn't feel comfortable, we didn't have to.

   Josh turned to me, and he had a very faint blush on his cheeks and nose.

   "Hey, I...well, we could talk about o-our problems if you're up to it...I'm not saying you should, b-but it would be cool-"

   I cut him off, because I knew he would nervously trail on forever.

   "I'm down."

   Josh sighed heavily in relief, and moved his chair so he was facing me. 

   "So, why are you in here?" I asked.

   His smile quickly faded, and he looked at his feet with a pained expression, which really, really worried me.

   "I was. Raped. By my english teacher. Last year."

   The way he said it made my heart drop, and the fact that he was raped made me angry and frustrated. Who the fuck would touch this beautiful man negatively and to do harm? What kind of sick, twisted person would make him feel like this?

   "Oh. Holy shit. I'm sorry," I said shakily, sympathy flooding my voice. But it wasn't mock sympathy, it was genuine empathy, like I felt an invisible link between us.

   He nodded slowly. The positivity that radiated him was completely gone, and I somehow felt it.

   "Why a-are you here?" He murmured, sniffing.

   "My dad abused me a lot when I was a kid. He's in jail now." And fuck, the memories started to flood back.

 

.................................................................................................................................................................................................................

March 13, 2002

   "D-Dad, come on, I'm s-sorry I bounced the b-basketball in the house, o-okay? I am."

   But sorry wasn't good enough.

   He started to undo his belt, and that's when I fucking _bolted_.

   I hurriedly unlocked the front door, stepping onto the porch and jumping off. The porch was seven feet tall, and I didn't have time to go down the steps, because I knew he would've gotten to me by then. My feet slapped against the sidewalk as I landed down on it, and I felt a sharp pain in my knee. I tried to run as fast as I could, but my knee stopped me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man rushing towards me at a very quick speed, and immediately started to sob. But I continued to try my best at getting away. My knee suddenly went numb, and I was being grabbed around my waist, a hand covering my mouth. I was thrashing my legs and arms hard, trying to get away, but he was too strong, and I was too frail. When we got inside, he threw me on the ground and kicked my stomach until I was coughing blood. Then, he started to whip me with his belt. I didn't cry. I just stared at the wall in front of me, continuing to cough up blood. Then I closed my eyes, and drifted away.

   My body went into shock. He thought I was dead, so he carried me outside and tried to get me into the car, until a neighbor saw him and questioned him in suspicion. My dad denied everything, but my neighbor socked him in the face and knocked him out. 

   I remember waking up in the hospital, my mom and siblings on either side of me. They were all at my brother's graduation, but didn't have enough tickets for me to go, and my dad didn't want to, so they took my sister instead. A policewoman came in and lightly explained that my dad was now under arrest. 

   That was the first time I smiled in years.

 

................................................................................................................................................................................................................

 

 


	6. lovely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter!!!!

February 18, 2007

 

 

   Hola, Josh here. I'm about to leave for my next therapy session, and the last few were _amazing_. I'm actually starting to feel better about myself.

   Okay, so my reaction to Tyler's dad being an abusive prick made me seriously pissed off. Tyler is a kind, loving boy and doesn't deserve any harm **_at all_** towards him. If I ever saw his dad in real life, I would beat the living shit out of him. Anyways, Tyler and I started to hang out a few weeks ago. When I went over to his house for the first time on January 24, his mom wouldn't stop bringing us snacks and checking in on us. It was pretty cool of her, but I later found out the reason she was being so welcoming is because Tyler wouldn't have a friend over for two years. 

   Every therapy session, Tyler and I would always sit next to each other, both of our hands on each other's knees. Every. Single. Time. It was hilarious, because the therapist would always give us questioning looks and raise her eyebrows at me. And I would just shrug in reply.

   After the session today, Tyler's mom is gonna pick us up and take us to her house. I'm gonna spend the night, which is pretty cool, because I haven't spent the night at someone's house in a while.

   I have a huge secret. 

   I love Tyler Joseph.

   I wanna kiss him, and hold him, and make him know everything's okay, and I want him to feel safe. But I can't achieve that without him trusting me and letting me be his.

   And that's what I'm going to try and accomplish tonight.

 


	7. well

February 18, 2007

 

 

   I'm so fucking nervous. Josh is coming over tonight after the therapy session, but he's spending the night. In my house. In my room. _Possibly, in my bed_. No, no, he'll be sleeping on the mattress on the floor. He wouldn't sleep in my bed. 

   I'm falling way too fast for Joshua Dun. Everything about him makes me drool;his coffee-brown eyes, his absolutely amazing smile, the way his hair curls at the tips if he doesn't straighten it. 

   Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-I can't stop thinking about him. His muscular biceps and how his shirts hug them, his chiseled abs that only appear when he lifts up his shirt to itch his stomach, and oh my god, his v-line... _Jesus Tyler, get your shit together_.

   

...................................................................................

 

   We just finished the session, and it was actually successful. Everyone is starting to become more open about their problems, and I'm beginning to feel better. Josh is also helping a lot, since he cracks jokes and lets me vent to him when the therapist wants us to talk to the person next to us. 

   As we get in the car, Josh accidentally trips onto the seat and I burst out laughing. He flips me off and tries to hide his smile, but I know damn well he wants to laugh too.

   The car ride back to the house was pretty fun, because Vanilla Ice was on the radio and Josh and I were rapping every part.

   My mom parks the car, and we get out and manage to fall on each other. My mom chuckles and shakes her head. 

   "I gotta go to work, so you guys will be by yourselves, since Jay, Maddy, and Zack are visiting your grandpa. Love you."

   Josh and I watch her car drive away until there's nothing in sight on the road, and we sprint inside. I lunge for the first player controller on the couch, but he manages to jump over me and grab it, plopping down on the couch and grinning proudly at me. 

   "Oh, fuck off," I say, grabbing the second player controller and sits next to Josh.

   He starts to laugh really hard, and I giggle and move to sit on his lap. 

   His laughing immediately stops.

   


	8. love

February 18, 2007  

  


  


   I'm at a loss for words. Tyler Joseph, _the_ Tyler Joseph, just moved his whole body to sit in my lap. I'm not entirely sure why, but I have a feeling he might like me more than a friend. Just a thought.

   As I sit there, breath hitching and my hips squirming a bit against Tyler's ass, he continues to play the game like nothing is happening. When I feel myself starting to get a boner, I gulp and look at the back of Tyler's head with widened eyes.

   "Please get off of me."

   Tyler laughs obliviously, looking back at me with a big grin.

   "Why should I, Joshie? Your thighs are really comfy."

   "Tyler, please, please get off of me," I insisted, my voice shaking a little.

   Okay, I'm ready for a relationship, but I don't want anything to become sexual, just yet. Mentally, I'll think dirty thoughts, but physically, I can't do it. I'm still sensitive about the events that took place last year.

   He finally understands and gets off, looking at me with a guilty facial expression, his voice quivering.

   "I'm sorry, I forgot for a s-second..."

   "It's okay, it really is," I mumble trying to comfort him, but I fail and move my gaze down to my feet.

   "I'm sorry, Josh."

   "It's fine, Tyler."

   He looks at his controller, and we sit in silence for a bit.

   "Josh, do you love me?"

   It takes me a few minutes to answer correctly.

   "Yes."

   He nods, continuing to stare at his controller.

   "Because I love you."

   I gulp hard, then move my gaze to his eyes. He stares back. Both of our faces are bright red. 

   I inch closer to him, and he does the same. When we're a foot apart, I turn my head down to his right hand and my left hand, and I lace my fingers with his.

   My heart is beating so fast that I swear, I swear it's going to burst into a million tiny little pieces that fall right onto Tyler's lap.

   I think that's what happened, because from that moment on, my heart has been with that brown-eyed boy ever since.

   


End file.
